The rain started hours after the pulse.
It fell not from storm clouds, but from the trembling atmosphere above the Silver Crown—a strange, shimmering mist that drifted from the sky like the Earth itself was exhaling. No one spoke for a long time. The kind of silence that followed wasn't fear. It was awe. And exhaustion.
Nova sat beside Theo, watching his breathing level out. He was lying on a piece of scorched concrete beneath what used to be the upper terrace of the Obel Core. The light from the stabilized thread anchor still shimmered faintly in the distance, pulsing like a heartbeat—regular, gentle, human.
He hadn't spoken since he collapsed.
Nova kept her hand near his, not touching, but close enough to feel the echo of his energy. His thread had changed—she could see it now. It wasn't just weaving anymore. It had begun connecting to other lines, spiraling outward like roots. She could feel faint links to Ayen and Rell, even to herself.
He's starting to affect fate directly, she thought. He's not just repairing it… he's becoming part of its structure.
She looked up at the shifting skyline.
The Seer was gone. For now.
But something told her that encounter hadn't been the end. The Seers weren't ordinary agents. They were like scars on time—permanent, stubborn, and always aching when storms approached.
A footstep behind her pulled her from her thoughts.
Ayen stood with a bloodied sleeve, one shoulder torn from the earlier fight. Her usual fire had been dimmed, replaced by a quiet edge. She sat down beside Nova without a word.
"How bad is he?" Ayen asked after a while.
"Stable. For now," Nova replied. "But that was more than he's ever tried before. He synced with the Anchor completely. That shouldn't be possible—not without unraveling his mind."
Ayen studied Theo's face. "Maybe he's already unraveled."
Nova frowned.
Rell approached, clutching a salvaged data core, his expression unreadable. "The relay caught part of the temporal flux before it collapsed. I think we got something."
Nova perked up. "What kind of something?"
"Logs. Not just from this thread—others. Fragments. Messages. I haven't decoded it all, but one stood out." Rell crouched beside them and tapped the device. A distorted audio clip began to play.
A voice—grainy, tired, familiar.
"To whoever finds this... you're not the first, and you won't be the last. If you've touched the thread anchor, it's already begun. You're the reset. And they'll come for you."
Then static.
Theo stirred. His eyes opened slowly. "That voice…"
Nova leaned in. "Don't rush. You're still recovering."
"No… I know that voice." He sat up, groaning. "That's Dr. Siven."
Ayen blinked. "The Origin scientist?"
"She's the one who started the Project." Theo's voice was hoarse. "She created the prototype for the first thread reset. I saw her—in a vision, back at the Core."
Nova's heart quickened. "Then maybe she left this behind… as a warning."
Rell adjusted his glasses. "Or an invitation."
They were quiet again.
Outside, the strange rain was fading. The city's remains whispered as metal cooled and dust settled. Somewhere in the distance, birds cried for the first time in years.
Theo slowly stood, still shaky but stronger than expected. "We need to find the rest of the fragments."
Nova stood with him. "You can't keep doing this alone, Theo."
"I'm not," he said, meeting her eyes.
Then he turned to Ayen and Rell. "We're past the point of theories. If Dr. Siven survived—or if she left more data behind—we have to find it. She might be the only one who knows how to end this without breaking time itself."
Ayen crossed her arms. "Any idea where to start?"
Theo nodded slowly. "Yes. The Cradle."
Even Rell went pale. "You can't be serious. The Cradle is under Warden lockdown. No one gets in without a clearance key—and they've started executing trespassers on sight."
"It's where the second prototype was tested," Theo said. "Where the first paradox began. If Siven left anything behind, it's there."
Nova inhaled. "Then we move at first light."
The four of them stood together under the ruined arch of what used to be a great city.
Beneath them, the earth thrummed with quiet threadlines—more stable now, but still wounded. Still dangerous. They had bought the world time. Nothing more.
Theo looked down at his hands.
"Not fixing," he whispered. "Remembering."
Nova heard it, and nodded.
The past couldn't be rewritten without consequence.
But maybe, just maybe, it could be understood.
And that was how healing began.